


Boyfriend Sweater

by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Fluff, M/M, No hoodies were harmed in the making of this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 21:59:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5842519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oishi Shuuichirou knows for a fact that he owns at least two hooded sweatshirts. Yet in the first vestiges of autumn, not a single one can be found.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boyfriend Sweater

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LiveThroughThePages](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveThroughThePages/gifts).



> Happy birthday to my MiyuNori compatriot!

It’s well after sunset when Oishi comes home from work at the hospital, and a blanket of cool has settled over the apartment on this late September evening. “Tadaima!” he calls, not particularly surprised that there isn’t an answer, as Kikumaru is wont to stay late at school these days due to his newly appointed role as faculty advisor for the girls’ tennis club.

With an involuntary shiver, Oishi slides open his wardrobe door in search of something warm to wear. He quickly spots his favorite woolen pajama bottoms, complete with the absurd penguin pattern that had pleased Kikumaru so much for him to unwrap about four Christmases ago.

Quickly, he sheds his work wardrobe and slips into pajamas, declaring his day over for anything not on this side of the front door. However, his relief quickly turns to confusion as he rustles through all of the hangers, drawers, and shelves before coming to the unhappy conclusion that he had no idea where his old college logo hoodie is.

With a frown, he checks the coat closet in the entryway, but there is nothing to be found but overcoats and umbrellas.

It isn’t until he’s halfway back to the bedroom when it hits him.

Stopping in his tracks, Oishi chuckles to himself before heading back to the bedroom and opening the other side of the wardrobe. However, when his search of Kikumaru’s side of the closet turns up empty, Oishi scratches his head and mumbles, “I could have sworn —”

Oishi’s musings were interrupted by a soft groan coming from behind him.

A shiver runs up his spine that has nothing to do with the chill in the room. He’s almost afraid to turn around, wanting to blanket himself in the assurance that he’s alone and his imagination is just overactive. He hears people groaning and moaning all day at work. _Yes, that’s it_ , he chides himself as he keeps rooting around the wardrobe for at least _one_ of the two hoodies he could swear he owns.

“Oishi?” comes a soft voice.

The shriek that whooshes out of Oishi’s mouth is high enough to make a dog yelp as he lists back into the closet and falls flat on his butt. Right on top of somebody’s tennis racket.

To top of his tumble, a leaning tower of shoeboxes tips over atop Oishi’s head, pelting him with a mixture of oxfords and trainers. He manages to shield the crown of his head from the brunt of the footwear attack, but one manages to clobber him on the nose.

When the avalanche subsides, Oishi gingerly extricates himself from the mess, only to reel backwards with a squeak when he sees a head poke out from underneath the bedspread.

“Eiji!” Oishi cries, putting a shaking hand over his hammering heart. “You scared me to death!”

Kikumaru giggles from underneath his blanket fort as he throws Oishi a wink. “It’s not my fault you’re a scaredy cat, Oishi.”

Just the way Kikumaru says his name, that slurred ‘Oishi’ Fuji has always teased was meant to sound like _oishī_ , sends Oishi’s heart stuttering in his chest once again.

With a wry smile, Oishi pries himself out of the mess he swears he’ll clean up later and rubs his reddening nose. “Say, Eiji, have you seen my hoodie? It’s getting cold.”

Inch by inch, he sees Kikumaru retreat back under the covers, and Oishi’s eyes narrow in suspicion. When Kikumaru is completely out of sight, Oishi grabs the edge of the bedspread and whips it off of the mattress with one smooth motion. And there is Kikumaru, curled in a ball while hiding his face. But not even Kikumaru’s smallest, tightest stance could hide the telltale evidence that he was wearing not one, but _both_ of Oishi’s hooded sweatshirts.

“Come on, Eiji,” Oishi says with a sigh, “just give me one. If you need some, we’ll go out on Saturday and pick up a couple that are actually your size.”

Kikumaru’s head pokes out of its little hedgehog-like cocoon as he cries, “No! It’s too cold, and I like Oishi’s!”

Exhaling heavily, Oishi reaches out to peel off the outer one so he might not freeze to death before winter even starts. Shrieking, Kikumaru vaults off of the bed and darts out of the room. Over his shoulder, he calls, “Catch me if you can, Oishi!”

Oishi shakes his head. He’s been running after Kikumaru Eiji for twenty years, and it’s with a wide smile that he continues the chase.

The pursuit lasts maybe five minutes before Kikumaru slows long enough for Oishi to tackle him on top of their bed.

“Got you,” Oishi teases, a stupid grin on his face.

Kikumaru beams. “Oishi got me.” He leans up like he’s going to give Oishi a kiss, but his mouth dodges Oishi’s and instead hovers over his ear. “But you can’t have it back. It’s in the boyfriend rules.”

The feeling of Kikumaru’s warm breath ghosting over his extremely sensitive ears — oh, he _definitely_ did that on purpose! — sends a flicker of heat from the coil tightening in Oishi’s belly. With a groan, he leans his full weight atop Kikumaru and claims that impish mouth.

And as they lean into each other and find their way underneath the covers, Oishi has a stray thought float through his head:

Well, he can’t say he’s all that cold anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> As a note, oishī means yummy/delicious. I remember when I first watched PoT, I laughed forever about this and vowed I would put it in a fic someday.


End file.
